Review: Air France First Class San Francisco to Paris
The takeaway thing I’ll hope you’ll remember about my personal experience last month aboard an Airbus A380 (which you are about to read), about an Air France First Class San Francisco to Paris flight, is that it doesn’t matter how you obtain your La Première ticket — whether you acquire it through points; begging, borrowing, or stealing; hard cold cash; or just going into hock up to your eyeballs — this is a remarkable memory to last a lifetime. Just to get a glimpse of how the other side lives, if only for 12 hours.
Originally, we bought our tickets last March to Lisbon in August with a return flight from Barcelona in September in Business Class. I had done enough research to determine that seats 62 through 65 were the best business class seats available. But being a Sacramento Realtor, a top producer who has negotiated hundreds of short sales, I know first-hand the propensity for even the best laid plans to go sideways. If, for some reason, Air France changed planes or whatever, our reserved seats could vanish. And I might not sleep well in a cabin with 80 other passengers.
On top of that, some real estate-related irritation happened with a bipolar client at the end of June, and it was enough to push me from Business Class into First Class. Yes, we deserved First Class. I don’t recall the particulars of what transpired, but I do know I promptly forget that frustration once I changed our reservation from Business Class to Air France First Class San Francisco to Paris. So, take THAT, whomever you were.
The capacity of this particular double-decker Air France Airbus A380 is 517 passengers, with only 9 suites in First Class, the La Première Cabin. It was only an additional $2,200 per person to switch from Business Class to First Class. If you’re not the type of person to ever fly Business Class, then you might not consider upgrading, but if you regularly fly Business Class, then by all means, just go for First Class at least once. You won’t regret it, and hopefully this story will explain why.
Because the two center front seats were already taken, and because most of the flight would not be spent talking to each other, my husband and I chose the window seats, which are arranged one in front of the other, not side-by-side. Our flight left at 4 PM, which is the perfect time to fly to Paris because you can enjoy a 7-course gourmet meal, vintage wines, a newly released movie, and then sleep the rest of the way, arriving around 11:30 in the morning at Charles De Gaulle. The plush beds, which the cabin attendants make up for you, lie completely flat.
Our French speaking flight attendant offered me a glass of champagne, well, just as soon we figured out how to plug in my cellphone and iPad to charge. It required several adapters. Then she returned to my seat to explain that she could not serve a drink until the doors closed. I’ve heard that excuse before but generally flight attendants overlook it. She must have known the “rules” when she asked and then agreed to be be right back with a glass of champagne, so that was an odd exchange.
She then asked how I would like to arrange my evening. It felt like I was sitting in my own living room, nestled into my comfy sofa, and a hologram suddenly appeared before my eyes, requesting my preferences. Well, I have preferences. We all have preferences if we stop to think about it. Dinner in an hour appeared acceptable, followed by a cheese course, a glass of port, then a movie and bed. There is only one other thing that might have accelerated my enjoyment but there were 3 other people in our cabin, and the beds are not big enough for two people. What, Air France? No king size beds. See what happens when a person flies Air France first class San Francisco to Paris?
Brings to mind that spiel by Chris Rock about how quickly women tend to get over the amazement of luxury and settle right in, like his wife on the phone at a 5-star hotel. Moments earlier she was in awe of the marble columns, the fabulous view from the top floor, and within seconds of receiving room service, he overheard her on the phone enunciating slowly in an irritable tone, demanding: Cinnamon Toast!
The mise en bouche I selected from the menu was aged rare duck, sliced very thin, with a scallop topped with two types of tiny bell peppers, goat cheese sandwiched between two yellow beets and an asian vegetable wrap. It paired well with the French champagne.
Next up, it was time for create your own salad. I chose mesclun, walnuts, sun-dried tomatoes, Emmental cheese, mushrooms, cucumbers and cranberries, which means I passed on the smoked salmon, grilled chicken, chicken gizzards, feta cheese and those little fat bombs, croutons. Dressing on the side. With this course, I also selected to pair it with a Beaune Premier Cru Bressandes 2009 Domaine Chanson, a very gentle pinot noir.
Just when I’m thinking I should be taking a nap right now because I cannot possibly consume anything else, along comes the chilled pea soup. Simply delightful. Somehow, those pea shoots dropping quietly into my mouth, followed by the smooth creaminess of the cold soup, made more room for the main course. I finished this with a sauvignon blanc.
Still sipping the sauvignon blanc, it was time for the first course, my favorite, Maine lobster. I spent a summer in Maine in 1988 on the coast. My landlord next door would fill up his crate with freshly caught lobsters and sell them to me for $3.00 a piece. He maintained several lobster traps in Quahog Bay near Harpswell. This lobster was served nestled on thinly sliced mango, accented by Espelette pepper, a type of chili pepper.
After a couple glasses of wine, it’s amazing how much more food a person can consume. Perhaps a small glass of cabernet sauvignon would not hurt. The vin rose called out my name, but I could not possibly drink every wine selection available on this Air France first class San Francisco to Paris flight. Fortunately, we were flying back to Sacramento from Barcelona via Paris on another Air France Airbus A380, which would provide ample time to sample the remaining wines. I picked up the asparagus with two fingers and plunged the whole thing through my lips. The wild rice reminded me of a Minnesota summer. The duck breast, tender and sweet, melted in my mouth.
Because my husband and I watch so many movies, it was hard to select a movie a) we had not seen yet and b) a movie that we would not want to watch together. After all of this food and wine, I figured a movie that did not require my 100% attention nor comprehension was in order, something light and funny, and I do like Robert De Niro, so Dirty Grandpa it was. Just the prelude before bed.
Air France gives you the comfiest ever pajamas. Of course, my husband says they could not have chosen a worse fabric, a material that can be washed only in cold water and hung to drip dry, but then I don’t do laundry. It made me feel like Captain Kirk on the U.S. Starship Enterprise. Next to the first class bath is a changing room, and just across from that is a fully stocked bar for your convenience where you can help yourself to anything your heart desires.
My heart desired sleep. While I was away changing into my pajamas, the flight attendant made up my bed, closed all the windows and dimmed the lights. There are also earplugs and a night mask, if one should so require. I apologize for the blurry image in the photo above but my husband was not happy that I asked him to shoot a photo in the dark with flash, as he felt extremely uncomfortable when he considered the possibility that his actions could disturb other passengers — yet I married him anyway — so he shot it very quickly.
I fell immediately to sleep and managed to pull in at least 5 hours of undisturbed sleep. Just in time to enjoy a continental breakfast, juice and coffee prior to landing in Paris, France.
There are travelers who do not appreciate the escort service provided by Air France, but I am not one of those individuals. It is especially evident when a person needs to clear International Customs and change planes. Since we were flying to Lisbon, Portugal, connecting to another Air France flight in Paris, having an Air France employee meet us at the gate and drive us through the airport in a Peugeot luxury sedan was unbeatable. The Charles De Gaulle airport features many twists and turns by vehicle, as opposed to walking, and we were guided out the back door, then transported around the airport, to the Air France first class lounge.
This is how a celebrity likely feels. We were not shuffled through security gates. Nobody examined our carry-ons. We just presented our passports and boarding pass at the door and were allowed through all the private back door entrances without further ado. I can’t stress how crucial and welcome this extra service is for sleepy travelers. We were not subjected to dealing with checking gate departures and locations, enormous lines, security clearances, crowds of people, getting lost or turned around, following signs, noise nor confusion. It’s dignified.
Once comfortably seated in a private corner of Air France’s First Class lounge in Paris, a server approached to take our order for refreshments and snacks. Fruit and juice sounded delightful to me, coupled with an espresso. Our personal Air France escort requested our passports and hurried off to get them stamped by the French Custom authorities. We were not subjected to searches or questions and did not have to stand in line nor make a physical appearance.
There are many more amenities at the La Premiére lounge in Paris than in Barcelona. For example, at the Air France lounge in Barcelona, you have to listen to rattling dishes while you’re trying to sleep, and the beds are not as comfortable, nor as quiet, as those in Paris. But Parisians know how to live well. And for just a dozen hours or so, flying Air France First Class San Francisco to Paris, so did we.